


I Hear You

by ereshai



Series: Various Prompt Fills [4]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:57:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Ariadne has heightened senses, and lives in the flat below the noisy and annoying Eames. She hears everything - him taking out his garbage, him singing in the shower, him having filthy sex with yet another girl. It gets to the point where she gets so angry and frustrated with him that she goes to his apartment, knocks on his door and somehow ends up letting him get into her pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Late Saturday night/early Sunday morning**

“Oh, god! Oh, god! Yes… yes! Right there. Fuck! ” There was a rhythmic _thump, thump, thump_ as something, probably the headboard, hit the wall. _That Man’s_ bed had obviously shifted. Again. “Oh, god! Faster! Fuck…harder! Yesyesyesyesyes!”

Ariadne pulled her pillow over her head, but it did little to muffle the sounds of the sexual encounter taking place in the apartment above her. _That Man’s_ current bed bunny had moved on to high-pitched squeals and babbled nonsense. White noise machines were not made to handle this kind of situation.

Weekends were the worst part of living directly beneath _That Man_. He did everything at full volume, including walking across a room, but that was nothing compared to the marathon of loud, obnoxious sex with a parade of loud, obnoxious women that started every Friday night and ended early Sunday morning, if she was lucky.

To make matters worse, if that was possible, Ariadne was in a…romantic…dry spell. After she and Bill had ended their relationship and she had moved into her new place, she just hadn’t felt like putting in the time and effort required to meet someone new. She was not interested in random drunk fucks, although even they were starting to look good after two months of listening to _That Man’s_ weekend romps.

“I need a better vibrator,” she announced to her room. “Or a fuck buddy.” Ariadne had put her vibrator to good use earlier in the evening, and while she was feeling relaxed, she definitely didn’t feel _satisfied_. It had been a long time, long before Bill, since she had felt that good. She internally weighed the hassle of having a new man even partially in her life against what she was spending on batteries, but she couldn’t come to a decision.

Two months. Ariadne had hoped she would grow accustomed to _That Man’s_ noise level, but it hadn’t happened yet. Not that it was entirely his fault. Her hearing wasn’t that much better than other people’s, not really. She was just _aware_ of every sound. And it wasn’t just noises. Smells, in particular, could be very overwhelming. She’d moved out of three apartment buildings in one year because of lingering cooking/cat/personal hygiene odors. She’d broken up with Bill partially because of his body odor, not that she’d told him _that_.  

Sudden silence roused her from her contemplation. Then – thud, thud, thud _._ A toilet flushed. _Getting rid of his condom, I suppose. Good boy, better safe than sorry._ Thud, thud, thud. _Off to the kitchen._ A faint sound of running water. _Yeah, I bet you’re thirsty._ Thud, thud, thud. _Back to the bedroom_.

She wondered idly what _That Man_ looked like. _He can’t be that unfortunate-looking, not with three or four different women in his bed each weekend, and not always the same women every week._ Her white noise machine finally did its job, drowning out the indistinct murmur of _That Man’s_ conversation, and she drifted off to sleep while contemplating his apparently wondrous talent in the sack.

**Monday, 5:30 in the goddam morning**

Ariadne lay in bed, waiting for her alarm to go off. _Did I set it last night? Why do I even bother?_ She folded her hands over her chest. She didn’t need to get up until ten to six, and she was going to stay in bed until that time, no matter how undeniably awake she happened to be.

“ _Because your love, your love, your love is my drug._ ” She could clearly make out the chorus this time, muffled as it was. “ _Your love, your love, your love. I don’t care_ …” The rest was cut off, thankfully. Even allowing for the layers of flooring/ceiling between them, it was obvious _That Man_ couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. _At least he isn’t singing “My Humps” anymore._ That had been last week’s favorite. She hadn’t cared about the song one way or the other until she’d heard it every day for a week at 5:30 in the morning, sung by a man doing his best impression of a wounded rhinoceros. Now she could honestly say she hated it.  _He’s going to ruin this song for me, too, and I kind of like it._

The alarm clock blared in the other room. Ariadne finally allowed herself to get out of the bed. She hurried out the door, accompanied by another round of ‘your loves’ from overhead.

**Tuesday, 6:30 pm**

Ariadne rinsed the last of her supper dishes, wincing at a particularly loud crash above her head. It sounded like _That Man_ had just taken every pot and pan he owned and thrown them into a pile in the middle of his kitchen. Or else he was cooking.

Glass shattered, followed by a muffled “Shit!”

_Ok, maybe he isn’t cooking. What the hell is he doing up there?_

He ran the water in his sink and proceeded to cross back and forth above her head. _The floor isn’t really creaking beneath his weight. Plaster dust is_ not _falling down on my head. He’s just loud. At everything._

More metallic crashes, then the sound of something being dragged across the floor. The door to his apartment opened and closed. _The water’s still running. He better not flood my apartment._

**Wednesday, 11:45pm**

Gunshots jerked Ariadne awake. She hopped out of bed and rushed over to the window. The street below was empty. _That sounded like it came from inside the building._

Squealing tires and the crash of metal on metal made her jump. _That Man!_ She went into the living room, where she could make out muffled shouts and - _music?_ –from overhead. _What the fuck is he watching, and why is he trying to make his ears bleed?_

**Thursday, 10:30pm**

Ariadne couldn’t sleep. It was too quiet. No heavy footfalls, no blaring television, nothing. _Maybe he went out on a date._ Never mind the fact that he had, without fail, limited his ‘social activities’ to the weekend. _Maybe he went on a vacation._

Without any noise to mask, her white noise machine was too loud, something she had never noticed before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ariadne has a headache from hell, and there's no way she's up for her loud neighbor's usual weekend shenanigans. It's time to confront _That Man_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after a ridiculously long wait, here is the rest of the story. I finally bit the bullet and wrote the damn sex scene. I welcome any advice on how to improve it.

**Friday, approx. 5:45 pm**

Ariadne shut her apartment door behind her and slumped against it. “It has officially been the day from Hell,” she told Rocky, and she threw her purse in the general direction of her couch. Rocky, sitting in his sunny spot on the window sill, did not answer. She rubbed her temples, trying to quiet the drumbeat that had taken up residence in her brain. If only her sunglasses hadn’t broken like the cheap plastic they were. During her walk home, the glare of the afternoon sun had felt like spikes being driven into her eyes.

She shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it after her purse, and wandered into the kitchen in search of painkillers. She found what she needed, dry-swallowing the pills because filling a glass with water would have taken _too damn long_ , and rested her forehead against the cool surface of her fridge. She stood like that for several long, long minutes until her headache started to subside.

Upstairs, a door slammed. The dull throb in her head intensified. Her eyes popped open. “Oh, God, it’s Friday!” Without another thought, she strode out of her apartment, down the hallway, up two flights of stairs, and down another hallway, where she found herself pounding on _That Man’s_ door. _Oh, shit_ , she thought, her brain suddenly catching up to her body. _What am I doing?_

Before Ariadne could run back the way she had come, the door opened. Standing in front of her with one hand on the doorknob and the other propped casually on the doorframe was a shirtless man in sweatpants. _A very good-looking shirtless man, with pecs and abs and tattoos and he’s got stubble and…_

“Can I help you?” Even his voice was attractive. And that accent. She practically _melted_ for an English accent.

“Can I help you?” he said again when she just stood there staring at him.

“Hello,” she blurted. “I’m Ariadne; I live in the apartment below you.” She stuck her hand out, feeling like an idiot.

“Eames.” He took her hand, squeezing gently before releasing it.

“I…” she began. “Look, I need to ask you a favor.”

“A favor? Then you’d better come inside.” He stood back, holding the door open for her. His apartment smelled like pine-scented cleaner. “Is this about feeding your cat while you’re away? I’d be happy to. I suspect Lily and Ruth would, ah, liberate, shall we say, any cat they were asked to look in on.” He waved his hand at an overstuffed couch, and flung himself into an equally overstuffed armchair nearby.

“My neighbors are wonderful people, and I don’t have a cat, just a pet rock.” Ariadne winced as soon as the words left her mouth.  She seated herself at one end of the couch, as far away from him as she could get. _Please let me stop acting like a complete idiot. I am a grown woman. I have seen half-naked, not to mention fully naked, men before. I will not jump a complete stranger, no matter how good-looking he is_.

“They are perfectly charming. That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t nick your cat, if you had one. They come off as crazy cat ladies.” He folded his hands over his chest and looked at her expectantly. “So, a pet rock? They don’t need much feeding.”

“Sorry, I’ve had a bad day.  A very bad day.” Eames nodded, encouraging her to continue. “I forgot to set my alarm clock last night.”

“Late for work? Never a good way to start the day.”

“I wasn’t late, just not as early as I like to be.” She did not mention that her backup alarm, his early morning shower singing, had been absent. “I had to run the Gauntlet.”

“The Gauntlet? That sounds terrifying.” His lips, _luscious, kissable lips, stop staring,_ quirked up in a small smile.

She caught herself staring and forced her eyes down. _No, not at his chest. Forehead, look at his forehead._ “No, but it is annoying. If I don’t get to work early enough, I have to walk past the receptionist, the sales reps, and the marketing team.”

“Hell on Earth, that.”

“Ha ha. I just find the catty remarks…irritating. It puts me in a bad mood.”

“I see.”

Ariadne shrugged. “Then I had a very long meeting with my supervisor, and I missed lunch with my friends.” She thought about elaborating, but, really, he probably wasn’t interested in the fact that she had also missed her cleansing lunchtime rant.

“Hmm.”

“Then, Linda - the receptionist,” she added when he raised an eyebrow at her, “broke my sunglasses.”

“The bitch.” Eames started to twiddle his thumbs, his eyes glazing over. She couldn’t blame him; she was starting to bore herself.

“My eyes are very sensitive. The sun gave me a headache, which has still not completely gone away. And that brings me to the favor.”

“Would you like some tablets?”

“I took something, thank you.” Ariadne took a deep breath. “I have very good hearing.” She paused.

“Yes?”

“And you are too loud!” She snapped her mouth shut, warmth flooding her face.

“Sorry?” Eames looked at her, brows raised.

“You stomp. All the time. You leave your TV on all night. You sing, badly, in the shower at five thirty in the morning, except not this morning for some reason, when it could have woken me up. And you have very, very, _very_ loud sex every fucking weekend, and I can’t take it anymore.” She stopped, glaring at him.

“I stomp?”

“Look, I haven’t figured out how to soundproof my ceiling. Couldn’t you buy some carpeting? I’d help you pay for it.” _Maybe_ _I shouldn’t have mentioned the sex, please don’t say anything about the sex._

“I shall try not to be an elephant. That won’t solve the loud sex problem this weekend, though. I’m assuming this favor would involve doing my best impression of a monk?” He smirked at her, rubbing his chest absently.

“Maybe you could go to her place?”

“Her who?”

“Whichever one of your very loud women you end up with.” She rubbed her temples, trying to ease the renewed pounding in her head.

Eames leaned forward and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. “I never do that. I don’t want them to get any ideas.”

Ariadne groaned and resisted the urge to bang her head on the arm of the couch. “Bringing them here doesn’t give them ideas? Maybe you could stay home alone, at least for tonight.”

“What, just me and Rosie and her five sisters?” He waggled the fingers of one hand at her.

“You masturbate very quietly.”

“Your hearing is that good? That’s a bit embarrassing.”

She stared at him. “ _That’s_ embarrassing?”

“Well, a man likes his privacy.”

“You know, this whole thing is embarrassing. I’ll go now. Do whatever you want.” She stood up and walked toward the door.

He stopped her within a few steps, his hand on her shoulder. She could feel the heat of it through her blouse.

“I’ll stay in tonight, just me and Rosie.” His hand tightened briefly, and she suppressed a shiver. “Or…”

“Or?” Ariadne turned and looked at him, arms crossed.

“I could help you with that headache. I know an old remedy.” He gave her a charming grin.

“Really.”

“Really. I’ll show you.” He led her back to the couch and sat down. “Now, lie down and put your head in my lap.”

“Put my head in your lap? You really get laid with lines like that?” Ariadne glared down at him.

“Here, I’ll use this. No funny business.” Eames grabbed a throw pillow and placed it on his legs, patting it in invitation.

“Fine. I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She sat down and kicked off her shoes before lying down as he instructed. “Don’t make me regret it.”

“Close your eyes and relax.” He ran his fingers through her hair, combing it away from her face, and then began to massage her scalp gently.  Ariadne could feel the pain and tension gradually melting away under his touch.

“So, Ariadne, what do you do?” Eames asked after several silent minutes.  He started to work on her neck and shoulders, kneading the stiffness out of her muscles.

“I’m a perfumer.” She inhaled deeply, noting the hint of deodorant mixed with the musky scent of his skin. _Thank God he doesn’t stink._

“One of those ladies who spritzes perfume on people? No wonder nobody likes you. I’m tempted to make a few catty remarks of my own.”

“Very funny. I mix scents to create perfume. I have a good sense of smell.”

“Sensitive nose.” Eames tapped the tip of her nose. “Sensitive eyes.” He ran his fingers lightly over her eyelids. “Sensitive ears.”  He stroked her ear. “I wonder what else is sensitive.”

He cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb over her lips, and then slid his hand slowly down to cup her neck. Ariadne opened her eyes and found him looking at her.

“Better now?”

She nodded. Conflicting thoughts raced through her mind. _I just met him…He smells so good…I JUST MET HIM…He’s apparently good, no, great, in bed…He’s probably a huge jerk…I haven’t gotten any in three months…He could be a_ serial killer _…THREE MONTHS and it wasn’t that great when I_ was _getting it…Am I really that horny?...Yeah, I really am._

Ariadne sat up, knocked the pillow out of the way, and crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. Eames’ hands came up to rest on her hips. Locking her eyes with his, she pulled her blouse out of her waistband and began to unbutton it. He slid one hand under her blouse and ran his fingers slowly up her back until he reached her bra. He unhooked it with a flick of his hand just as she freed her last button. She eased the blouse off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then pulled her bra off and dropped it on top of her shirt.

Eames pulled her close and kissed her neck. Then he dropped his head and took her nipple in his mouth, the wet warmth of his tongue sending a shock of heat through her entire body. His teeth grazed the hard peak, making her gasp and clutch his shoulders. She wiggled closer, pushing her lower body tightly against him. She could feel his hard cock through their clothing and she started to grind her hips down against it. His grip tightened, and he thrust against her once, then again. She threw her head back and moaned. Eames gave her nipple one last little lick, and then switched to her other breast, giving it the same attention.

He pulled his head away, and she suppressed the urge to force it back to her breast. Their gazes met again, and he reached for her waistband, undoing the button and easing the zipper down. Then he slipped his hands down the back of her pants and cupped her ass, holding her against him as he rolled his hips up. His thumb traced the lace trim of her panties, and he gave her a playful squeeze.

Eames surged up suddenly, one arm across her back to keep her from falling. He turned and laid her on the couch, kneeling over her between her spread legs. Ariadne reached up and pulled him into an almost chaste kiss. His breath wasn’t horrible, and she allowed the kiss to deepen, sweeping her tongue into his mouth. She tried to wrap her legs around his waist and pull him down on top of her, but he held himself up on his elbow, while he ran a hand along her side and over her trembling belly. His touch was just firm enough not to tickle.

He put his hand down her pants again. The warmth of his touch was palpable through the thin silk of her panties as he rubbed her clit, but she wanted more.  It was a stretch, but she managed to get her hand down the front of his pants and wrap it around his erect cock. Eames groaned and thrust into her hand. He fumbled to get under her panties, his movements constricted by her pants. She wriggled, trying to help him as much as she could without letting go of him. Finally, his fingers were on her, no layers between them. He stroked the lips of her pussy, using the wetness there to ease the friction, and then fingered her clit until he found the just the right spot, making her hips jerk and forcing helpless whimpers from her throat.

Ariadne tightened her grip and stroked Eames’ cock. Her range of motion was limited, but she managed to add a little twist whenever she reached the head. Precome eased the way a bit. Eames continued to play with her clit, and Ariadne could feel her orgasm building, it wouldn’t take much more to-

Eames pushed a finger inside her. Ariadne moaned, long and loud, and pulled him into another deep kiss. He added a second finger, and started moving them in and out, matching the rhythm of her hand on his cock. He broke their frantic kiss and dropped his head onto her shoulder, muffling his groans. Whenever he withdrew, she pushed up against him, clenching her muscles around his fingers. He sped up, pulling out only to plunge in again, curling his fingers slightly. It was almost enough. “Harder,” she moaned. He pushed in hard, his hand tight against her, and used his thumb on her clit. Ariadne’s orgasm rolled through her, a wave of pleasure that overcame all of her senses.

When she finally came down from her pleasure high, she realized she still had Eames’ hard cock in her hand, and she started stroking him again. He began to pull his hand away. “Wait,” she said, “just leave them in, please.”  He rocked against her, the movement sending little aftershocks of pleasure shivering through her. They sped up, until Eames pushed against her, his hips jerking out of rhythm. Then he came all over her hand and collapsed on top of her, the hair on his chest scratchy on her skin. She wrapped her free arm around his neck, and they both tried to catch their breath.

Eames finally withdrew his hand, then pushed himself up, and moved to the end of the couch. Ariadne sat up and slumped against him, not quite ready to give up the feel of his skin on hers. “That was…wow. Thank you,” she said. She really wouldn’t be able to refer to him as _That Man_ after this.

“My pleasure.”

They sat in silence. Thoughts of ‘ _What did I just do’_ and _‘This was a big mistake’_ were beginning to stir in the depths of her mind, but she ignored them.

“I’ve heard that sex can cure headaches. Was that your ‘old remedy’, or were you just trying to get into my pants?”

“I don’t mind getting into a beautiful woman’s knickers, but that wasn’t my first impulse. You needed help, I offered. What came after was entirely spontaneous.”

“Sex wasn’t your first impulse?” She pretended to consult an invisible watch on her wrist. “You’re usually on round two by now.”

Eames shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, well…I’ve a confession to make.”

She stiffened. “Go on.”

“I’ve been abroad for my company for the past six months.”

“Okay.” She thought for a long moment, her brain still recovering. “Then who…?”

“I sublet the flat to my brother while I was away. He moved out yesterday.”

It hit her then; she knew nothing about this man. She pulled away from him and folded her arms across her chest, feeling _naked_ for the first time since she’d taken her blouse off. _Does his confession make the situation better or worse?_

“I feel really…awkward.”

“Don’t. How about dinner?” He lifted his ass off the couch and shoved his sweatpants and underwear down to his knees. Ariadne hastily averted her gaze. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as he pulled first one leg and then the other free, leaving him completely naked. She tried not to stare at the play of his thigh muscles under his skin as he moved.

“Well, are you hungry? I’m feeling a bit peckish. ” He wiped his hand on his briefs, then offered them to her to do the same. When she was finished, he wadded them up and threw them toward the bedroom, and pulled his sweatpants back on.

“Um, yeah, okay. I’ll go and cha-“ She broke off as a horrible thought occurred to her. She patted her pockets, but they were empty. _Shit, this isn’t happening._

“Something wrong?”

“I don’t have my keys. I’m locked out of my apartment.”

“No problem. You can call in a locksmith.”

“On a weekend?”

“It will cost more, but I’m certain you can find one.” Eames checked the clock on the wall. “Probably not now, though.”

“Great, just great.” Her headache threatened to make a comeback.

“You can stay here tonight. I don’t mind.”

_I’m sure you don’t_ , she thought, but all she said was, “Thank you. So, what now?”

“Dinner, as I said. I know a decent place not too far away.”

“I’m not going out like this.”

“Like what? Just put your bra and your blouse back on and you’ll be right as rain.”

“What about my, ah, my underwear?” Her face grew hot.

“Take them off. I won’t tell.” He laughed when she glared at him. “We’ll dine in. Takeaway?”

“Depends on where it’s from. I’m a little picky about what I eat.”

“You’re in luck. I’m not picky at all.” He got up and walked over to a desk where his laptop sat open. After typing his password, he turned back to her and said, “Here, order what you like and triple it.”

“Just like that?”

“Why not?” He went into the kitchen, calling behind him, “Thirsty? I’ve a nice red chilling.”

“Sure.” She crossed over to the desk, quickly brought up the site of her favorite restaurant, and ordered her usual in large quantities. “Cash or credit?”

“Cash,” he called back. There was a muffled _pop_.

Order complete, she went back to the couch, grabbed her blouse from the floor and put it on. It was hopelessly wrinkled, but that was the least of her worries. Now all she had to do was find a way to tactfully and gracefully get out of her damp underwear without making it look like she was throwing herself at him. Again. Yet.

Eames returned with a bottle and two wine glasses, and handed one to her. “Say when.”

She stopped him before the glass was half full, and sniffed it appreciatively while he poured his own. Judging from the bouquet, it was far superior to the wines her budget could afford. She took a small sip. Definitely superior.

“I’ve a question for you, if you don’t mind.” He sat next to her, his glass cradled in one hand.

“Ask away.”

“Do you object to loud sex if it’s you doing the screaming?” He swirled the wine in his glass absently.

“Oh.” She blinked at him. “I suppose not. But I’m not really a screamer.”

His eyes twinkled and he took a sip of his wine. “Let’s see if we can change that, shall we?”

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 will have the confrontation.


End file.
